Author's Note: how do you write
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He hated her when she was fifteen, this lowly, disgraceful human who had pulled his father's sword from his tomb with ease when he, his father's firstborn, could not even touch it without being burned. So loud, so irritable, she was a pest that he could not destroy no matter how many times he had pointed his sword at her.
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She lay unconscious inside that monster, his demons swarming around her. He could leave her there for those lowly demons to come and tear her apart. She wouldn't even feel a thing as they feasted upon her flesh, devoured her heart.
He slashed through those demons without another thought.
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She disappeared after the fateful battle, and he did not stop to wonder why everyone mourned for her. She was insignificant. Finally, she was gone from his life, and he did not miss her in the slightest.
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History passed by him in a blur; familiar faces have left him long ago. He walked amongst humans, hidden in plain sight, but still something felt wrong with this image. He had acquired many things in his former life, and he continued to acquire many more in his new one, but still, he couldn't ignore a certain void that he had yet to fill.
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He was astonished when she stumbled back into his life, centuries later, though she had only recently turned twenty-one. A curious creature, he realized she was not normal, not fated to follow the same type of existence as her fellow humans. Even more curious, he did not object when she held out her hand for his, feeling like just maybe there was a reason for her appearance again.
(Her hand felt so soft and warm, he noted to himself.)
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Her every word was like a spell, and he willfully let this little bewitching human woman ensnare him with her voice, captivating him with sweet murmurs of love and pleasure, becoming the sole keeper of his ice cold heart.
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He made her his when she was twenty-three; no other male will ever lay their filthy hands on her as long as he breathed.
She accepted him with joy, with love, any feelings of fear or resentment she might have felt for him once upon a time ago were no longer visible in eyes that only gazed at him with desire now. She was beautiful beneath him, her cheeks rosy and her dark hair fanned out in gentle waves. Breathless, he could no longer remember a life without her. For every kiss he branded on her body, she answered with pleased sighs and moans, her every being entrusted into him.
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So weak, so intoxicated, he had become addicted to her. Lost in a daze, in a dream that seemed unending, the years rolled by, his need for her in his life grew stronger with every breath taken.
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He loved her when she was twenty-seven, and her kisses tasted sweeter than any nectar of the gods. It had never failed to astonish him how perfectly she fitted against him, how each time they lay together, she cried with the same joy and pleasure as when he first took her, made her his and his alone.
Though titles had long been obsolete, when she rose above him, straddling him, he knew then and there that she will forevermore be his Lady, the only one able to stand by his side as his equal while also being the only one able to conquer him. When she leaned down to steal his lips, so practiced and so familiar, he knew he would gladly submit to her time and time again.
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She bore him a son at twenty-eight, and he was amazed by the joy and love he felt for this little child who was a perfect blend of him and her. When he looked into her bright eyes, he could see a shared lifetime within them, and it seemed every decision—right or wrong—he had ever made in his long life had led to this one precious moment.
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She won't stop aging, he feared, and he knew she would leave him one day. It seemed fitting somehow, having seen her disappear once before so many eons ago. Perhaps now he could understand his brother's and her friends' tears. She had crept into his life so many times now, secured her place within his heart, he knew she had become his weakness.
When she smiled, though, he knew she was also his strength, the reason for him to fight and protect everything he held dear.
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Twenty-nine, she blessed him with a daughter, a perfect reflection of her for him to remember always. Dark hair and eyes and full of joy, he saw none of him in this sweet little child, but all of her mother's goodness brimmed for all to see. He had not atone enough for his past sins to deserve this blessed life, but he would gladly give himself up to eternal damnation just to savor this little piece of heaven.
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He held her close when she was thirty for fear that if he blinked, her entire life would vanish in a flash. Her warmth eased his fears, letting him relax for this brief moment in time when she was still young and still vibrant and still his.
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He had wandered through the desert of time, past unfamiliar faces, never realizing how much he needed her until she appeared before him again. A mirage, a cruel, fleeting dream, he tasted her hungrily, savoring every kiss as if it might be the last. He memorized every curve, drowned in her voice, held on to the sweet sound of her beating heart.
So cruel, he laughed lowly against her throat when she smiled at him sadly, understanding their fate.
Gentle fingers threaded through his hair, but it hurt him more than she could ever know. She promised him her love, but he knew their happiness would not last forever. His lips brushed against her throat, and he sighed in defeat.
She will be snatched away from him one day, but just for now she was his and only his.